


What Do You Want?

by stilinski_wolf



Series: Sterek Notebook!AU [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, John doesn't approve, M/M, The notebook!au, never has, writer!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 12:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7574629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinski_wolf/pseuds/stilinski_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is left alone in Derek's house for a few hours, and before Derek comes back, Stiles' father shows up, disapproving. But John says a few things that have Stiles thinking, and when Derek comes back, their happy little bubble of the past two days is completely shattered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Do You Want?

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last Notebook!Au drabble I have written, and I do not know if I will write another one. I would like to wrap these drabbles up with a happy ending, though, so hopefully I will.

Stiles wakes up the next morning to an empty bed, but his initial panic at not seeing Derek laying beside him goes away when he sees the note on the pillow next to him saying that Derek went out to catch some fish for breakfast, and that Derek hoped Stiles would help himself to anything in the house while he was gone. 

Smiling, Stiles left the note where it was and rolled out of bed, not bothering to get dressed and taking only the sheet to wrap around his shoulders haphazardly as he walked out of the room. 

Without Derek, Stiles let his mind wander, and thought about his writing and how he never did it anymore. 

So Stiles searched for a room where he could possible write, and the second one he came across left him breathless with it’s newly painted white walls, the neat placing of everything, with a desk near one of the two widows that opened up to the wrap around porch on the second level. Both windows were open to the sounds of nature outside, the sun streaming in and making the room even more beautiful all lit up. 

Stiles sucked in a breath when he saw an old fashioned typewriter sitting at the desk. Of course Derek would have one of those handy. For Stiles. 

Always for Stiles. 

Swallowing thickly, Stiles moved over to the desk, sat down, let the sheet fall away to hang over the chair behind him, and reached for the stack of paper left on to the side of the typewriter, taking one and putting it in.

With a deep breath filling the silent, luxurious room, Stiles put his hands over the keys, and started typing. 

=*=

It could have been an hour, it could have been several. All Stiles knew when the loud knock sounded on the door below, that he had page after page of a story started, and that the sun was high in the sky, and Derek wasn’t back yet. 

Stiles blinked, brought himself back to reality, and looked toward the doorway to where the knock was coming from, wondering who it could be. 

It couldn’t be Jennifer, for she had no reason to come back, as harsh as that sounded. Since she was the only who Stiles could think of to show up at Derek’s house, he figured it had to be a solicitor of some kind or another, and didn’t bother getting dressed as a loud knock, followed by the doorbell this time, sounded throughout the house, and he stood up, wrapping the sheet around his shoulders again and making sure they covered him up where it mattered. 

The knocking became more persistent as Stiles rushed own the stairs, and Stiles muttered, “I’m coming, I’m coming, for fuck’s sake,” under his breath when he was about ten feet from the door. 

When he got to the door he wrenched it open, his mouth opening to let out an annoyed “Can I help you?” but the words died on his lips when he saw who as the door. 

They looked at him, took in his appearance, the sheet wrapped loosely around his body, so much so that it was falling off his right shoulder, and Stiles could see the judgement in their eyes.

Stiles closed his eyes, preparing himself for the conversation he knew was about to happen, and opened them again as he stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

“Dad.” Stiles murmured, not able to quite look him in the eye. 

John Stilinski stood in front of Stiles, his lips pursed, and with a jerk of his head he was motioning to the two chairs sitting to Stiles’ left on the porch, and Stiles got the message. 

Feeling as if he was doing the walk of shame, Stiles walked over to the chair furthest away from the front door and sat down, looking over at his father tentatively, apprehensively. 

John sat, and there was a tense, uncomfortable silence for a long moment before he spoke. 

“So, I can’t say I’m all that surprised.” John sighed, bringing up his hand to message his temple. 

Stiles tried to swallow past the lump in his throat and stayed silent, looking down at his hands holding the sheet closed around him. 

“Although I wish you hadn’t. I’m not surprised, but I am disappointed." 

Stiles’ mouth tightened, his shoulders tensed, but he stayed silent, not looking his father in the eyes still. 

"You’re engaged, Stiles. To a lovely woman who doesn’t deserve any of this." 

Stiles couldn’t swallow down the guilt as he finally allowed himself to think of Heather, who was still waiting for him to come back home to her. Stiles cleared his throat, but couldn’t find any words. 

"Did you even give that girl a thought before falling into bed with Derek Hale?" 

Stiles let out a shaky breath. 

"Did you even think about what she might feel like when she finds out you’ve been screwing someone else? Just going at it without a thought to her or anyone else but him?" 

"What, so now I’m a whore?” Stiles said defensively, finally looking up and into his father’s eyes and letting his hand rise and fall with a slap onto his thigh in his annoyance, and then let it rest there. “You think I’m a slut now, is that it?" 

John shook his head. "I didn’t say that.”

“No, but you’re thinking it.” Stiles said, and John only shook his head.

“I would never think that of you, Stiles.”

Stiles scoffed, looking away again as tears filled his eyes. 

Silence fell, and for a few minutes they said nothing, before Stiles turned back to his father. “Did you know?" 

John looked confused. "Know what?”

“The letters.” Stiles saw realization dawn on his father’s face before he carefully schooled into a black mask. But that was all Stiles needed to know the truth. “365 letters. A whole year Derek wrote me, and you knew. You kept them from me, didn’t you? Didn’t you?" 

John sat up straighter, lips tight. "It was the best thing for you, son.”

There was no amusement in Stiles’ harsh laugh, and he shook his head in wonder as he looked at his father. “You watched me cry myself to sleep for months and months. And you never said anything." 

"You needed to move on with your life. You did move on with your life. And it was good for you, don’t you see?” John leaned forward. “You have your own career, you’re engaged to a lovely woman who suits you remarkably, and you’re happy.”

“I was happy with Derek." 

John winced. "You wouldn’t have stayed that way.”

“How would you know?” Stiles almost shouted. “You couldn’t predict the future!" 

"Trust me.” John said, and he was almost as worked up as Stiles, and he opened his mouth to say more before he paused and sat back, looking thoughtful. “I have the letters with me.” Stiles didn’t even try to hide his look of shock and surprise, with a little bit of hope mixed in. “Come on, go get dressed while I go get them." 

Stiles watched his father stand up before he slowly stood up as well. 

Stiles quickly got dressed, still only having the same outfit he wore two days before, and then went down to meet his father outside. 

His father was waiting on the porch, a huge stack of letters all tied together in his hands, and Stiles breathed in sharply at the sight of them.

All Derek had said was true. He really had written him every day for one year. Stiles still couldn’t quite believe his eyes. 

"Here.” John said quietly, and Stiles took the stack of letters tentatively, looking down at the one on the top that had Derek’s unmistakable handwriting on it. “Believe it or not, son, I understand love.”

Stiles looked up at his father, briefly remembering the words all those years ago he’s shouted at his father that night about not knowing anything about love, that he didn’t laugh or play or do anything with Melissa that people in love do. 

“Your mother and I…our statuses were equal, we were both from very wealthy families, so we were expected to marry. We were the right match for each other in every way. And we were out of our minds in love, even though it was just a marriage of convenience at first.” John sighed, and then crossed his arms over his chest. “Claudia was the love of my life.”

Stiles could only stare, not knowing quite what to say as his father let out a shaky breath, his face shroud in sadness. He had never really talked about Stiles’ mother before, not since she’d died when Stiles was eight, so this was new, and shocking. 

“I miss her everyday. And please don’t think that I don’t love Melissa, because I do. I love her very much, and I’ll always love her. I’m lucky to have her as my wife.” A tear slipped out, fell down John’s cheek. “But if your mother was alive today..” John trailed off and Stiles had to clear his throat to keep the tears at bay. “So I know. I know what love is. And Heather is that for you. You are both of the same status, and you will fall in love with her, just as I did with your mother. Trust me when I say that Derek Hale having a fancy house doesn’t change his roots. He is and always will be below you. Something that is unequal can never work out." 

Stiles said nothing as John came forward and hugged him, only hugged him back despite the nasty feeling in his gut at his father’s words, letters still clasped tightly in one hand. 

As they pulled back from the hug, Stiles saw Derek approaching from the tool shed, where Stiles guessed Derek made a detour to store the fish, as they weren’t in his hands presently. 

John looked over his shoulder, saw Derek and sighed before turning back to Stiles. “I’ll leave you two to it, then. But please think about what I said, Stiles. And remember that I love you, and only want what’s best for you, okay?” 

“Okay.” Stiles murmured, feeling numb.

“I’ll see you later. Bye.” John said, turning just as Derek was coming up the stairs. They eyed each other wearily, and then skirted around each other, John walking toward his car. 

As Derek turned to look at Stiles, Stiles walked over to the closest chair - the one his father had just occupied - and sat, letters in his lap. 

In his periphery, Stiles saw Derek walk the chair next to him and sit down as his father started his car and drove off. “So, I see you got my letters.” Derek deadpanned. 

Stiles sighed, played with the string holding them together. “Yeah, I did.” 

“So…” Derek repeated, voice trailing off. “I’m guessing this little family visit didn’t go so good, huh?” 

Stiles closed his eyes, not knowing what to say. 

“I guess this is it, then?” Derek said with a false lightness to his voice, that was trying to be cheery but obviously falling short. “You leave, go back to your fiancé, and we pretend these two days didn’t happen, never existed.”

Stiles looked up, into Derek’s eyes, and saw the anger, the sadness, the hurt, the resignation. Seeing that look on Derek’s face was like a punch to the gut. “I don’t know.” Stiles murmured, feeling confused, conflicted, scared. 

“Well, it was fun while it lasted, huh?” Derek’s voice was a forced nonchalance. 

Stiles glared at him. “I have a fiancé waiting for me at home.” 

“Yeah, you do. Ain’t that a pickle.” Derek tsk’d.

Stiles looked away. 

“So what are you gonna do, Stiles?” Derek said, his voice soft all of the sudden.

Stiles swallowed heavily, shook his head as tears swam in his eyes. “I don’t know.” He repeated.

It was silent for a long moment before there was a loud BANG! of the chair and Derek was standing up. Stiles jumped, startled by the sound before he looked up at Derek who had begun to pace. 

Soon he stopped, faced Stiles, hands on his hips, chest heaving. “So what, what was this, huh, Stiles? Were these two days just fun? Were we just strolling down memory lane, reliving the past for a time? Why did you come here? Why did you insert yourself back into my life, make me remember all the reasons I’m in love with you, have been in love with you for all this time? What was the purpose of this?” 

Stiles was crying by now, couldn’t stop it as he shook his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Clearly!” Derek shouted, not being able to hold the outburst. “You should have just told me you didn’t want this, that it wasn’t going to go anywhere other than fucking for a few days and I would have left you alone. I would have started to at least try and move the fuck on from you, for a start.” 

“I can’t just leave my fiancé when three days ago everything was fine. I can’t just-“

“Be with me?” Derek snapped, anger and frustration clear on his face. 

Stiles stood, hands clutching tightly to the letters. “I care about Heather. I love Heather.” 

“And what am I? Your ex turned casual fuck?” 

Stiles shook his head vigorously. “I can’t do this right now. I need to think. I need - I need to go.”

Stiles hasted toward the steps as Derek said, “Does she make you happy?” which caused him to pause and turn to Derek. 

“What?”

“Do you feel what you feel - felt- with me and more with her? Is she in your mind all the time? Do you think about when you’ll next see her? Does she make you happier than anyone else in this world? Do you yearn for her? Can you not keep your hands off her when your around her? Does she make you feel good when you make love? Does she blow your mind? Is she the best you’ve ever had?” 

Stiles scoffed as Derek came closer to him. “You arrogant, son of a bitch.” 

“Come on, Stiles.” Derek smirked. “I was only asking a question.” 

“More like ten.” Stiles snapped, and then immediately started down the porch steps and toward his car. 

“You wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t something missing, Stiles!” Derek called after him as he followed Stiles toward his car. “You wouldn’t have slept with me if you were completely happy with her and you know it.” 

Stiles whirled around just as he made it to the car, glaring at Derek. “You don’t know anything, Derek. You don’t know what I want.” 

“I think your scared, Stiles. You’re scared to go for what you want.”

Stiles round the car to the drivers side, shaking his head vigorously, feeling angry and if he didn’t leave he would punch Derek in his stupidly attractive face. But Derek stopped him with his hand on the now open open car door, and he was dangerously, distractingly close, so Stiles took one giant step back. 

“You know I’m telling the truth.”

“I hurt Heather, don’t you get that? I cheated on her, and she doesn’t deserve that! And I can’t just add to the hurt by leaving her for you!” Stiles shouted, tears running down his face. “And look at us! How good would we be together, huh? Look at us, we’re already fighting!” 

“That’s what we do, Stiles!” Derek shouted. “We fight! You tell me when I’m being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you’re being a little shit, which you are almost all of the time.” 

Stiles pursed his lips, realized he was still clutching the letters in his hands. “So, what?” 

“So, that means this isn’t going to easy. It’s going to be hard, and we’re going to have to work on this day in and day out, but I want you.” Derek said, and Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. “I want all of you, forever, you and me, for the rest of our fucking lives.” Stiles half sobs, and Derek continues on. “Look, if you really want that girl, just go, I won’t stop you. But no matter what, don’t take the easy way out, all right?”

“What easy way?” Stiles choked out. “How can there be an easy way when no matter what I do, someone gets hurt!” 

“Would you just stop thinking about what everyone else wants, okay? Stop thinking about what I want, what your dad wants, what your fiancé wants. What do you want?” When Stiles said nothing, just continued to look down and shake his head, tears running down his face, Derek groaned out, “Fuck, Stiles, what do you want?” 

“It’s not that simple.” Stiles said through his tears.

“What. Do. You. Want?” Derek repeated, leaning towards Stiles and looking him straight in the eye. “What you do want, Stiles?” 

Stiles didn’t have an answer, couldn’t think of one in that very moment, and so all he could choke out was, “I have to go.”

Derek stared at him in slight disbelief for a long, tense moment before he let go of the car door and walked away toward the house, and Stiles got in the car, putting the letters in the passenger seat and starting the car.

Backing out fast, Stiles tries not to let the image of Derek watching him drive away through the rearview mirror get to him. 

But with how he can barely see through his tears as he’s driving away from the house, from Derek, he doesn’t succeed.


End file.
